Veneration
by wingshock
Summary: Fills in the blanks between "En Ami" and "All Things"


Title: Veneration  
Author: Wing aka Cindy W.  
Rating: PG Category: MSR, Fill-in-the-blank Summary: This story fills in the blanks between "En Ami" and "All Things"  
Spoilers: En Ami, Chimera, All Things  
Feedback: Of course.  
Author's Notes: Thanks to Starshadow Rivaulx Mana for their help and advice. Thanks to XPFC for everything.

x x x

Things were different. Three weeks ago she'd returned from Pennsylvania with the blank disk and apologized to Mulder. She explained everything to him, and he told her that he understood. To their friends and colleagues their partnership seemed unchanged, but Scully knew that was an illusion. The trust had been wounded - and its blood was on her hands.

She thought things were improving until he went away to investigate that missing woman in Vermont. Upon his return she sensed the cloud of sadness hanging over him had thickened, and she was beginning to wonder if their relationship was irreversibly damaged. Scully wanted to invite him to her apartment for a heart-to-heart, but for one reason or another she hadn't had the chance to ask him.

Now she sat at home on Sunday night, eating a salad topped with tuna fish and fat-free Italian dressing, staring at the television. Flipping absent-mindedly through the channels, she glanced at the phone. If she called him he wouldn't be able to weasel out of the conversation, and then she'd know for sure if he wanted to talk. As she reached for the phone, there was a knock at the door.

Peering through the peephole, she was surprised to see the object of her concern on the other side. He was holding something behind his back. Her heart skipped a beat, then went into double-time. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then unlatched the door.

His face was grim. "I need to talk to you." He said brusquely.

She let him in. "What's wrong?" As she closed the door, she resigned herself to the knowledge that this was not a pleasant social visit.

He shifted uncomfortably and then brought his hand from behind his back, revealing a large manila envelope. Was his hand shaking? "I -" He started to look into her eyes, but looked at her feet instead. "I decided I had no choice but to show you this."

"What is it?" Scully was deeply concerned now. She took the envelope from his hand and hastily opened the flap. Inside were photographs. She pulled out the largest photo and looked at it in horror.

On the glossy paper in black and white was the image of Scully and C.G.B. Spender on a bed. She was leaning back with her eyes closed, her bra strap slipped down, her cleavage and bare shoulder visible. Spender was leaning over her, one hand behind her head. His open mouth trailed across the top of her breast, toward her neck.

Scully gasped and dropped the picture as her hand flew to her mouth. She made a gagging sound and dashed for the bathroom. Mulder stood staring at the floor until she finally returned, looking pale.

"I had the same reaction." Mulder said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She flipped through the other pictures. She thanked God silently that Spender appeared fully clothed in all of them. The gallery before her was disgusting: Spender kissing her neck, her mouth, and in a particularly horrible pose was holding her thigh up as the rest of his body lay between her legs.

She breathed out sharply. "Oh my -"

"I take it he drugged you." Mulder's voice was flat, his face still grim.

Scully stared at him for a moment, then in an almost whisper she began. "The first night - I fell asleep in the car. The next morning I woke up in my pajamas."

Mulder nodded and looked away. He was still angry at the fact she had been there in the first place.

"I accused him of drugging me. He denied it - he said I was just exhausted."

"And you believed him." Mulder's bitterness was gradually turning to anger.

Her hand trailed across the front of her blouse. "I - my - uh, my bra and my tape recorder were still there so I thought -" Mulder nodded and rubbed his forehead. "I mean, if he'd completely undressed me - there'd," she stammered. "There'd certainly be pictures-"

"Certainly," Mulder snapped. He stalked around to the couch, sat down and closed his eyes. After a moment he looked up and continued more calmly. "Unless he's holding back. There could be more."

Scully thought that over for a moment. She remembered back to that morning, the whole day after - she was sure she hadn't been raped.

Mulder seemed to read her thoughts. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. Then he let out a slow breath. "Scully, did -" He swallowed hard and looked at the floor. "Did he?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'rape.' He looked up at her.

Scully shook her head and sat down beside him.

He leaned toward her and softly touched her hand. It was the first physical contact they'd had since she'd returned. "I hope you wouldn't hide anything from me."

"He didn't, Mulder." She said firmly. She stood up and paced back and forth, her hand first on her forehead, then on her hip. She was agitated now. She stopped pacing and waved her hand animatedly through the air as she spoke. "I think I would know."

"Okay." Mulder said, not wanting to upset her further. His shoulders slouched and he looked completely dejected.

Her face began to turn red and tears were pooling in her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly, trying to beat back the tears. "Violated!" She screamed inside her head."Again! And I won't stand here in front of him-" Her thoughts were a jumble of anger and helplessness. She huffed out a breath and then walked quickly into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her with more than sufficient force.

Lost in his sulking, Mulder sat on the couch for almost half an hour before finally going to her. He knocked softly.

"Scully?" He asked quietly. "Are you okay?" Silence. His voice deepened. "Scully, please."

Several moments passed before she opened the door. Then she plopped back onto her bed and stared at the floor, not wanting him to see her red, swollen eyes.

"We've got to talk about what we're going to do." He said gently, his anger gone. He sat beside her and she saw he was holding the pictures in his hands.

"Burn them." She said bitterly, swiping at her face.

"Scully - you know we should turn them over to the Bureau -"

She shook her head. "Mulder. I don't want them to see." She hiccupped a little sob. "Skinner to see," she finished weakly.

"Scully, if we destroy these and then more surface, it'll look worse. If you turn them over and state your side of the story first, then he can't do anything more."

She sniffed loudly. "What's he going to do? What could he possibly use these for?"

"I don't know. I just know that if he can he'll use them against us - somehow."

"You're right. I know you're right." She acquiesced. "I'll give them to Skinner myself tomorrow."

He nodded and began solemnly to return the pictures to the envelope.

She looked up at him, her eyes fierce. "I just wish I could go back to that day and -"

Mulder sighed. "I don't understand why, especially after that morning when you woke up and knew that he'd -" He paused. "Undressed you - and possibly drugged you - why in the hell did you stay?"

"I'd come so far and I was so close. For some stupid reason I thought he was telling me the truth. I just had to find out." She paused to collect her thoughts, then after a moment said, "He did it to humiliate me."

Mulder nodded. "Yeah, and to-" He stopped and rethought his sentence. "His life's goal is to manipulate people, Scully"

He held up a photo and looked at it again, then rolled his eyes closed. Scully noticed some handwriting scrawled across the back of it, and she reached up to steady his hand so she could read it. Mulder realized what she was doing and moved the picture away, stuffing it quickly back inside the envelope. But for the second she held it in focus, she had been able to make out the writing. She stared at his hands as the words ran through her mind: "I enjoy taking what you think is yours - and as you can see, she liked it too."

Suddenly she felt more clearly the anguish Mulder endured upon opening that envelope. For just those few horrific moments, he actually believed she had slept with the cigarette-smoking man. "Mulder." She said, her voice gentle and sympathetic. She tried to look into his eyes, but he turned his face away.

"I'll give you some peace now, Scully." He said, his voice and expression still sad. He began to stand up.

She grabbed his arm and tugged him down, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She wanted to feel him return her strong embrace, but his arms rested limply by her sides. She pushed her mouth against his ear.

"I'm so sorry, Mulder. Please forgive me. Please." He made no response. "I was so stupid to trust him. I know that I hurt you. I'm so sorry! Please trust me again. I can't lose you - I can't." Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was beginning to grow desperate at his non-responsiveness. Suddenly nothing was more important than that he knew all her feelings for him. Was there any doubt in his beautiful mind? Everything between them must be immediately and completely settled, and all doubt completely dissolved. "You're the most important person in my life. You mean everything to me - everything!"

This startled him a little. He realized the effect all this was having on her, and he was making her feel even worse with his coldness. No matter how good her words of devotion might sound, he didn't want her to say anything she didn't mean. "Shhhh." He said soothingly. Then he lifted his arms and generously returned her embrace. "I'm sorry. It's okay, it's okay. I forgive you."

She didn't seem to hear him. "You know the truth, don't you?" She kissed his ear, then his cheek. Her wet, red-rimmed eyes locked with his as she spoke. "I'd do anything for you - anything. I love you - don't you know that? There's nobody else, and there'll never be anyone else. Never - I swear it. You're the only one."

Mulder closed his eyes and felt his heart pounding in his throat. He'd long wanted - dreamed - of hearing such words from her. But it had taken this terrible situation to extricate them. She was emotionally distraught, frightened of losing him and now she was going overboard to prove her devotion. Suddenly he realized that for the past few weeks he'd been unconsciously punishing her. He'd basically threatened her with the loss of his friendship. Now she was reacting in desperation - she'd do anything to prove her loyalty and affection.

Adrenaline was surging through his body and he fought to keep his voice calm. He had to stay in control and not allow his own feelings to make him lose sight of reality. "Scully, please don't -" Her lips arrested his words. He pulled away to finish his sentence, her lips still seeking his. "Don't just because -"

She kissed him again, more desperate than ever. Finally overcome by emotion, he buried both of his hands into her soft hair and kissed her for all he was worth.

x x x  
Mulder awoke and watched Scully sleeping. He felt guilty already. He'd punished her for the past two weeks and then those damn pictures punished her right over the edge.

(Even then you couldn't let up.) He chastised himself. (You poured on the kicked puppy act even more.)

He'd known it last night but wasn't strong enough to heed his own advice. She said she'd do "anything" for him, and she had. She'd given herself to him to prove her loyalty. A precious gift indeed - and if she'd intended to lift him from depression, she'd succeeded mightily, if only temporarily.

He found a pen and paper and began to write a note. But everything he thought of seemed trite and embarrassing. "Thank you"? "I'm sorry"? In the end he gave up. He watched her sleep for a moment more, then whispered to her, "You'll want to forget this happened. I don't know if I can. But for you, I'll try."

x x x

She woke alone. No Mulder, no note. She stared at the sheets, thought about the night before - and cringed. She'd thrown herself at him. He was a man, for crying out loud. A man who cared deeply about her and who had probably been celibate for quite some time. What was he supposed to say to her, "Thanks but no thanks"?

(But last night he said he loved you.) Her inner voice said.

(Men say a lot of things in the heat of passion.) She replied.

(No, he meant it.)

(He should be here right now. At least he should've left a note.)

(The way he kissed you, touched you.)

(I could've been any woman.)

(That's not true!)

(It isn't?)

He tried to stop her when she began kissing him. She heard him say "don't" but she didn't listen. She ignored his protests because she was so intent on finally expressing her love. Now, she feared, she'd ruined the partnership and their friendship for good.

(And you sinned against God.) Her inner voice said.

(Don't make me think about that now.) She protested.

(You have to.)

x x x

Slowly she showered and dressed. She was exhausted. The morning sun was shining full through her windows when she finally headed out the door. She dreaded the thought of seeing Mulder again, and she also dreaded the stop she knew she had to make before she could do anything else.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been six months since my last confession."

"What have you come to confess?"

"I lied. I lied to my partner, my best friend. But I - I thought that I had to."

"We never really have to sin."

"I know. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time - but now I know I was wrong."

"Have you asked her forgiveness?"

"His. His forgiveness. Yes, I have."

"And the two of you have reconciled?"

"Yes."

"Good then - you've made peace with your brother and with God."

"But there's something else. Something worse." Scully was on the verge of tears.

"No sin is worse than any other."

Scully nodded. In her head she knew that was a fact, but some sins just felt worse. "I slept with him, Father."

"Was this also something you also felt you 'had' to do?"

"I-" She paused and took a deep breath. "I love him deeply, Father."

"Then you should be joined in marriage." The priest said, as if it were incredibly obvious. He paused for a moment before asking, "Does he love you?"

"He cares for me, Father."

"Why did he sleep with you?"

Scully gathered her thoughts. "I - I made it impossible for him to refuse." A sparkling tear rolled down her cheek and hung near her chin. "He tried, but I wouldn't hear it."

"I see. You were trying to prove your love."

Scully sniffed. "Yes."

"And having 'proven' yourself to him in this way, is he convinced of your sincerity?"

There was a long pause. Then Scully sighed heavily. "I'm not sure what I've convinced him of." Scully's voice cracked. "Oh, I don't know, Father! I'm so confused. I may have ruined everything."

"Go talk to him," the priest said sympathetically. "Find out what his true feelings are."

"I don't know if I can, Father - I'm so ashamed."

"You have to work things out with him. Misunderstandings only deepen when you avoid confronting them. Does he share your faith?"

"No," She admitted sadly.

The priest ruminated a moment. "Do you think he might change his mind? Accept Christ as his Savior - as you have?"

"I don't know." She paused and shook her head. "I'm not sure."

"My dear," the priest sighed and then spoke very deliberately. "If he cannot love both you and God, he is not the man God intended for you."

She sniffed again. "Yes, Father."

"For your penance, say ten Hail Marys, one Glory Be, and ask God for the courage to face this man and reach an understanding about your feelings for one another. Now, say the Act of Contrition."

Scully began to recite. "O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins, because of Your just punishments, but most of all because they offend You, my God, who are all-good and deserving of all my love -"

x x x

Scully reported straight to Skinner's office. She wanted to get this over with, and she wasn't ready to face Mulder yet. Kimberly was not at her desk, so Scully found a "while you were out" pad and began to write Skinner a message.

"Good morning, Agent Scully," Skinner stood in the doorway, surprised to see her. "You need me?"

"Yes sir. Do you have a few minutes?"

"No." Skinner answered bluntly. He glanced at his watch. "I've got another meeting right now, and then -"

"Anytime would be fine, sir."

Just then Kimberly walked in. Scully's sullen demeanor obviously concerned Skinner. "Kimberly, pencil in Agent Scully for a meeting this afternoon at two."

"Thank you sir," Scully said as she left.

She took her time going down to the basement office. By the time she reached the door her heart was racing, but as she pushed it open she realized Mulder was not there. (What a relief. But where is he?) She approached her desk and saw a yellow post-it stuck to her chair. It was Mulder's handwriting: "Death in Maryland. You didn't answer your cell. Talk to you later, M."

(Ditched.) She plopped down into her chair and began rehearsing her speech to Skinner.

x x x

Skinner looked like he was praying. Mulder sat down and waited in silence. After a few moments he began to wonder if Skinner were aware of his presence. "Sir?" He asked tentatively.

Skinner looked up at him. He was not happy. "Thanks for coming, Agent Mulder." He let out a long, slow breath. "I, uh, I assume you saw -" He stopped and shook his head. "Of course you saw. The damn things came addressed to you."

Mulder said nothing.

"I just wanted to get your thoughts on -" Skinner leaned forward, his eyes piercing into Mulder's. "Why would he do this? What is he trying to pull?"

Mulder shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand his motives. The only one I've been able to discern is his innate desire to advance lies and suppress truth."

"To put a rift between you and Agent Scully?" Skinner offered. "Divide and conquer?"

Mulder nodded. "But he'd already accomplished that to some degree."

Skinner nodded. "Then what?"

"As I said -" Mulder paused thoughtfully. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "Or to bring us closer together?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing - as if we'd really think Scully had gone over 'to the dark side'."

Skinner nodded. "You trust her implicitly."

"Of course. Don't you?"

Skinner's expression couldn't have been more serious. "I want to."

Mulder shook his head. "Sir. Agent Scully is absolutely trustworthy, and may I add the picture of propriety. We both know that. Her only fault was being too trusting."

Skinner nodded. "Yeah, I guess if I was to think that she'd -" He paused and shook his head. "Yeah. It's ridiculous."

x x x

When he returned to the office, Scully was there. It was the first time they'd seen each other all day.

She didn't look up from perusing her e-mail. "What'd he say?"

"Just wanted to get my thoughts on the SOB's motives. Of which I don't have many. Sorry I made you do that alone."

"I wanted to do it alone. Besides, you were in Maryland."

"I tried to get hold of you earlier when -"

"I'd turned my phone off for awhile." Her mind floated back to the confessional booth.

Mulder nodded. His brain was scrambling. What to say, what to say. Oh yeah, the case. He strode to the desk and picked up the manila folder. "A mysterious death. A teenage girl, eighteen, was found dead in the woods." He handed her the folder.

Scully's eyes skimmed the page. "Mmm-hmm. And we have jurisdiction because, and it's an X-File because?" She looked up at him. The sight completely disarmed her. His eyes, his hair, his skin. Memories of the night before fought to re-construct themselves in her mind. Her stomach fluttered. (Whoa.) She looked down quickly and pretended to study the paper.

"One, the local PD called, and two, look at page three." He replied coolly.

She flipped to page three. "Ah." Photographs showed the trees near where the girl's body was found. There were pentagrams carved on several of them. "I see. And you found?"

(Yep, all business. She doesn't want to discuss it.) Unable to stop the flood of visions and feelings from last night, he turned away from her and walked back to his desk. "Ectoplasm."

"Ectoplasm? Like in 'Ghostbusters'?"

"The very same. I think she drowned in it."

"Okaaaay."

"I've requested the body - I need you to do the autopsy and -"

"Mulder."

She sounded serious as a heart attack and he stopped in his tracks. (Is this it? This is it, isn't it?) "Yeah." He put one hand on his desk as if to brace himself. He still wasn't looking at her.

She cleared her throat. "It was my fault, and I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have -"

"Agents." Skinner said as he entered the office. Scully startled and Mulder turned around. Noting the serious looks on their faces he asked, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes sir." Mulder answered.

"This came in the mail this afternoon." Skinner held out a manila envelope.

"Is it?" Scully asked, standing.

"Yes." Skinner replied.

Scully approached him and took the envelope as Mulder walked to the back of the office and leaned on the filing cabinet. "Are they?" She flipped through the photos quickly. "That's relief, at least."

"The same?" Skinner asked.

Scully nodded.

x x x

It'd been a week since their night together, and neither of them had mentioned it. She wished for one sign from him - one little wink, one touch - anything. She searched for every flirtatious tone or look, but to her disappointment his flirtatious side seemed to have taken a permanent vacation. That was confirmation of her theory. (Now that he knows what I'm capable of, he doesn't want to encourage me.)

She thought about the priest's instructions every night. She prayed for strength. She knew the right thing to do, but actually doing it was another story.

Mulder knew they needed to talk - a serious, uninterrupted, completely personal talk. The possibility that Spender would want them together unnerved him. Mulder supposed that Spender's ultimate goal was separating them. If he drove a big enough wedge between them, one of them would request a reassignment. If they became lovers and the FBI found out, they'd be reassigned anyway. That had to be it, right? What other reason would he have for wanting them to become lovers?

Yes, they needed to get away. Totally away from work - and that meant away from D.C. He began searching for a reason to travel. If she wanted to be alone with him she would jump at the chance to get away. He poured over his mail, through old files, but nothing presented itself. Friday night he worked late and then called the Lone Gunmen.

"You guys working on anything hot?" He asked.

"No, but I've got something here you might be interested in." Frohike replied.

"What?"

"A software program."

"Software? Come on, Frohike."

Frohike laughed. "Oh, this one will interest you all right - come on over and check it out."

"At least give me a hint before I throw away my Friday night."

"It's not thrown away already?" Frohike laughed again. "Okay buddy, a hint. Crop circles."

x x x

The phone rang early Saturday morning. Somehow Scully knew that it was Mulder before she even touched the receiver. Her heart picked up its pace.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Scully - it's me." He sounded cheery.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I was hoping you could meet me -"

Her heart went into double-time. She willed her breathing to slow and pretended to be annoyed. "It's Saturday, Mulder."

"I know, but I really want to show you something. Can you meet me at the office?"

(The office?) "Must I?"

"You must. And bring lunch, kay?"

x x x

Scully approached the office and paused. She could hear music playing beyond the door labeled "Fox Mulder." When she'd first walked across that threshold years ago, she had no idea what that name would mean to her one day. Her heart pulse quickened as she pushed the door open, then she paused. There he was, subtly dancing to the music, fiddling with the slide projector. The slide projector. Her heart sank. He was back - the old cocky, workaholic Mulder, full of the next big thing.

The song lyrics cut through to her wounded soul:

"See, the storm has broken in the middle of the night  
nothing left here for me, it's washed away..."

Scully took a deep breath and stepped inside. In order to disguise her emotions, she began immediately. "I got the lab to rush the results of..." Mulder wasn't listening to her. The song suddenly grated violently on Scully's nerves. She shut it off and continued speaking more loudly. "I said, I got the lab to rush the results of the Szczesny autopsy, if you're interested." (See? She could be all-work too.) She pulled her salad out of the bag she was carrying and sat down at the desk.

Mulder seemed a little taken aback by her attitude. One thing he didn't want to do was make her angry today. "I heard you, Scully."

She continued, "And Szczesny did indeed drown - but not as the result of the inhalation of ectoplasm as you so vehemently suggested."

"Well, what else could she possibly have drowned in?"

Scully seemed satisfied with herself. "Margarita mix. Upchucked with about 40 ounces of Corcovado Gold tequila which, as it turns out, she and her friends rapidly consumed in the woods while trying to reenact the Blair Witch Project."

Mulder was surprised, but relatively unconcerned. Although the Szczesny incident had seemed extremely important a week ago, now it paled in comparison to Spender's shenanigans. His goal was clear: Scully and him - alone. He wanted to lighten the mood. "Well, I think that demands a little deeper investigation, don't you?"

Scully didn't bite. Just as seriously she continued."No, I don't."

"Well, it doesn't matter. We got bigger fish to fry." Mulder was anxious to change the subject and get down to his plan. Scully handed him his sandwich as he started the slide show. Three crop circles appeared on the screen. This'll grab her interest. "Have a seat, Scully. Check this out. Is that beautiful or what?"

"Crop circles, Mulder?" She didn't sound thrilled.

"Computer-generated crop circles." Mulder began his presentation. Scully could not believe that after what had happened between them he could forget about it so completely. It was back to old times, the same-old, same-old. Here she sat, and there he was with that stupid slide projector. She drizzled dressing over her salad. He was talking about crop circles. Stinking crop circles - the hoax of the century! Couldn't he ever just leave it alone?

"...pants right now." She heard Mulder say.

"Hm?" She replied.

"You're not listening." He said.

"I am." Mulder gave her a cold look. She had not been listening. (Okay, fine.) "I guess I just don't see the point."

"The point is that a computer program has shown us that these are not just random, happenstance coincidental occurrences, and that same program has predicted that in just 48 hours even more complex formations are going to be laid down in a field near Avebury - 48 hours, Scully - but I wouldn't mind getting there earlier if you don't mind."

"Getting where?"

"England - I got two tickets on a 5:30 flight."

(Now he wants me traipsing all over the world after him. Is the FBI going to pay for tickets to England?) She glanced at the bulletin board and the picture of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's grave. For all she knew, he could be arranging a rendezvous with Phoebe Green, wanting to relive some of his youthful heyday. Maybe their night together had only served to remind him of what he'd been missing.

"Mulder, I still have to go over to the hospital and-and-and finish the final paperwork on the autopsy you had me do." (Besides, what about me? What about my personal life? Sheesh, everything I do centers around this man! And now after the mess I got us into even my daydreams center around him! Damn him.) "And, to be honest, it's Saturday and I wouldn't mind, I don't know, taking a bath?"

"Well, what the hell does that mean?" Mulder seemed hurt. This was not the response he'd expected from her.

(Hit him where it hurts.) "What it means, Mulder, is I'm not interested in tracking down some sneaky farmers who happened to ace geometry in high school."

His hurt expression confirmed she'd hit the mark.

(Okay, let up on the attack.) "And besides, I mean - what could you possibly get out of this? Or learn? I mean, it's not even remotely FBI-related."

Mulder was very disappointed and bordering on anger. "I'll just cancel your ticket." He took another bite of his sandwich. "Thanks for lunch." (Thanks for nothing.) He added silently. (Obviously she could care less about this, and now she's sick of me.) He laid the rest of the sandwich next to the slide projector, picked up his jacket and started out the door.

(Now he's leaving angry. I don't want that either!) "Mulder..." He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. She wished he would just be still for a minute. Sit with her, talk to her. Talk about life - real life. "Look, we're always running. We're always chasing the next big thing. Why don't you ever just stay still?"

"I wouldn't know what I'd be missing." He replied.

Then he was gone. The half-eaten sandwich fell to the floor. The slide projector was on auto-advance, vainly going through its crop circle presentation.

(Me! You're missing me. I'm right here in front of you, and you don't even care.)

x x x  
3 days later

She stood in his bedroom doorway, gazing into the darkness. She could barely see the outline of the bed and one of his legs under the blanket. She sighed and turned to leave.

"Going home?" His voice came from the darkness.

"You're awake?"

"Yeah - can't sleep."

"What's wrong?"

"I dunno - does your mind ever turn something over and over - and you can't make it stop?"

"Like when I'm obsessed with a case or something?"

"Yeah - I guess I'm obsessed tonight."

She stepped inside the room. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Then he sighed. "Yes."

"Which is it, Mulder?"

"Scully?"

She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more. Finally she said, "What?"

"I know that you think it was a mistake - and I also know that you blame yourself. I just want to say that it was not your fault - and I mean that."

She jumped a little when she realized the "it" he was referring to. She dropped her chin to her chest and shook her head. "No, no. It was my fault."

"I pushed you -" They both said together.

"How did you push me?" She asked, thinking back to her behavior that evening.

"The way I was acting - like a jerk. I made you feel that you had to do 'anything' - just like you said. Anything - to prove yourself to me. I was hurt and angry, but that gave me no right to act like a child."

Scully stared at him for a moment. Her eyes filled up with tears and she approached the bed. He sat up, his knees bowing out awkwardly on each side. She stood at the foot of the bed silently, collecting her thoughts. Finally she said, "Mulder - I didn't say or do one thing that I didn't mean."

His expression was one of relief, and his eyes looked hopeful. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

She continued. "I only thought it was a mistake because I knew that you didn't want it - and I -"

"Didn't want it?" He snorted a laugh.

"Threw myself -"

"Scully." He said her name tenderly. He'd gone from gloomy to joyous in such a short time his head was spinning. "Come here." He patted the bed next to him. She sat down. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows against his knees. "Right now I can't think of anything I want more." He reached for her face, held it in his hands and ran his thumbs along her cheekbones.

She gulped obviously, and then smiled at her own response. "I meant everything I said, and -"

"I love you."

"And I love you."

Their lips met.

She pulled away. "Mulder."

"What?" He asked breathlessly.

"I don't - I just I don't think I feel comfortable with us continuing - continuing -"

"Having sex?"

She chuffed, then dropped her head and smiled. "Mulder -"

"Was it that bad?" He was teasing now - he remembered as well as she did.

She shook her head. "I just - I've been struggling -" She paused. She sounded like such a goody-two-shoes. "With my faith, and I -" He thinks I'm a prude. "You know that I - and you know that right now we can't -"

"Get married?"

She smiled again. "Yeah."

"Would you? If we could, I mean."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Umm - are you-"

"Kidding?"

"Stop finishing my sentences."

"OK. No, I'm not kidding."

"If we could? In a heartbeat."

He beamed and blew out a huge sigh of relief. "I think you're right - you're absolutely right."

"I am?" She was surprised. She'd pictured some sort of argument. "Have you found religion and didn't tell me?" She teased.

"Unfortunately no."

She liked the way he said "unfortunately" - was he beginning to view her faith in a more positive light? But the look on his face betrayed that this was not his only meaning. Her brow furrowed. "What?"

He sighed again. "Him - C.G.B. Spender. I've been thinking about his motives, Scully - in sending those pictures."

"I thought we agreed."

"To one possibility, yes. But he's such a snake. How many times has he pulled the old bait and switch, Scully?"

She nodded but said nothing.

"What if he wanted us to become lovers? What if -" Dare he say it? "If that was part of the reason you were assigned to me in the first place?"

Scully stood up. "No. No, Mulder." Her hands were on her hips again, her eyebrows high. "I refuse to believe again that our partnership was some grand scheme, that we've been nothing but puppets!"

Mulder knew exactly how she felt. The image of a smoking Stromboli sickened him. "I know. But, it's a possibility - isn't it?"

Scully had to admit it - it was a possibility. An extreme possibility. "The FBI would certainly reassign us if they knew."

Mulder was deep in thought. That had been his original idea, but could it be something else?

"What?" Scully asked, more concerned.

Mulder shook his head. "Unless there was something else - something else he could accomplish."

Scully threw her head back and glared at the ceiling. "I can't imagine what that would be."

Mulder didn't know either. He looked up at Scully. The beautiful, enigmatic Dr. Scully. His savior. He knew that her faith wouldn't allow her to make an idol out of him, but he'd already made one out of her. Somewhere deep in the writings left on his heart by a benevolent creator, he knew that could be his undoing. Maybe others knew that as well. He shook his head.

"Mulder." Scully said sternly. "Stop making me say 'what'."

"I was just thinking - sometimes I'm the one who doesn't believe."

"I know that. But Mulder - it's not over yet."

He nodded. Maybe Spender needed them together. Maybe in Mulder and Scully there was a combination that was unique and somehow necessary. Necessary for what, Mulder wasn't sure. He was afraid to even suppose.

END


End file.
